Instability
by texas-sky87
Summary: AU. New Moon. Bella confronts Jacob for ignoring her and picking Sam. Jacob loses control and attacks her, leaving her badly injured and scarred. R&R por favor.
1. Instability

_Instability_

_AU(ish)._

_**A/N: As of right now, this is a one-chapter event. If people review and like it, I might continue on. I have a general idea of where the plot would go, but I'm short on time in my life. So, let me know if you like it/want to read more. **_

_**No copyright infringement intended. Stephenie Meyer owns the characters and settings. She also owns a good chunk of the beginning.  
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His fist slammed against the tree. It wasn't a big tree, slender and only a few feet taller than Jacob. But it still surprised me when the trunk gave way and snapped off loudly under his blows.

Jacob stared at the sharp, broken point with shock that quickly turned to horror.

"I have to get back." He whirled and stalked away so swiftly that I had to jog to keep up.

"Back to Sam!"

"That's one way of looking at it," it sounded like he said. He was mumbling and facing away.

I chased him back to the truck. "Wait!" I called as he turned towards the house.

He spun around to face me, and I saw that his hands were shaking again.

"Go home, Bella. I can't hang out with you anymore."

That's when I snapped. This wasn't happening. Not again. Not because someone didn't want me… _Again._ I absolutely refused to be another plaything, another trinket that could easily be tossed aside. Nope. Not. Ever. Again. I couldn't exactly control what came out of my incredibly moronic mouth next.

"You're just leaving me here? You're just going to throw me away like old gum?" He was shaking a bit more, his eyes were squeezed shut, as if he was trying to block out the blazing desert sun. We were in Washington. It was pouring rain. I should have recognized this as a sign, as an intuitive warning against what was about to happen. Unfortunately, my big mouth just kept right on talking, a mile a minute.

"You're just as bad as he is, Jacob Black. "

And that's when _he_ snapped.

* * *

What felt like seconds later, I was waking up to the sound of an incessant beeping and the feeling of needles in my veins. Then I noticed the tubes that moved with me whenever I moved, and finally I was able to put a name to the setting around me. I was in a hospital, and wasn't completely sure how - or why - I could possibly be there. In fact, being back in this place was almost as bad as the dull pain I could feel fighting its way through the strong pain medication. Not only had… _his_… father worked there, but this place held a lot of memories of my times with Jacob before he --

Oh.

Immediately, there was a sequence of recollection that assaulted my already jostled brain. The thoughts that passed through my brain were in a somewhat chronological order.

The first thing I was overwhelmingly reminded of was the pain. I knew there had been excruciating pain.

The second thing I remembered was the smell of the blood. Mainly my own blood, if I wasn't mistaken. That was probably when I had passed out. I just couldn't handle it; not only was it gross, or the smell too strong, but it reminded me all too well of all the times my blood had put me in fatal danger, simply by being there. And that tangent reminded me, all over again, that it was my fault they all left. That, had I not been so accident prone, and so _human_, that they would still be here. Sure, _he_ might have left me regardless, but I knew that if I hadn't been so clumsy, he wouldn't feel so bogged down by trying to always be my savior.

This stirred another consequent memory. I felt like he was a part of the reason I was in here. And yet, I knew automatically that he had not been there for the incident. He was off with his distractions, searching for something far more interesting than I. This was dangerous territory, and I knew it all too well. I lay there and pondered the fresh silence that had settled over my thoughts. It was very welcoming. I slipped back into oblivion.

* * *

When I woke up for what I assumed was the second time, I was hit with another wave; this time, it was of longing. I wanted to see Jacob -- in fact, where was he? Why wasn't he sitting by my side, holding my hand and telling me that it was all going to be all right? Why wasn't he --

I was instantly nauseated by the things I next remembered. I had approached Jacob about his leaving me, about him joining Sam's group of lackeys. He had been mad. I had been furious. I had said something about Jake being like… Oh, no. The next, and last thing I could remember in full techni-color was Jacob's face finally unclenching, and his violent yell as a ripple coursed through his body. I vividly remember a ripping sound coming from somewhere in his general vicinity; I hadn't know what it was coming from, and I hadn't cared.

For the time being, that was the only information I could recall. It would be an understatement to say that I was confused. I was downright clueless as to what exactly had happened, but I knew that the answer was with Jacob - wherever he was. Had he really not been to see me at all?

I sighed deeply, trying to release all the mental tension I felt into the breath. When I swallowed the air to fill my lungs, I felt a piercing pain in my torso. And on my back. Come to think of it, it was everywhere, all of a sudden. The most severe ache seemed to be coming from my face, and I lifted one hand to touch my cheek.

What I felt there, on the normally smooth surface, was a map of scabs weaving their ways across my features. With as much effort as I could muster, I propped myself on my elbows and peered at my chest and stomach, where the rest of the pain was originating.

There were deep red cuts running up and down my front. They seemed to fall into groups of threes and fours, although I couldn't be sure at the time. I wasn't anywhere close to knowing what had happened to me, but I knew that someone in the hospital must have known - or at least have extremely good pain medications - so I hit the call button next to my head.

After a couple long minutes, a nurse came wobbling in. She asked me if I was ready for more meds, but it declined her at first.

"What happened to me?" I asked. My voice was scratchy from neglect. I didn't miss the fact that her expression indicated that this was the last question she was hoping I would ask when I woke up.

"You were attacked by a bear. Or a large wolf. Or… Well, some kind of large animal. No one is really sure, not even the boys who brought you in." Her eyes were apologetic for this inconclusive response. However, part of her speech hadn't avoided my attention.

"Boys?" I asked. She had to be talking about Jacob and his gang. They were the last people I remembered seeing. Well, if anything, at least he didn't hate me enough to leave me there to die.

She hesitantly responded, "Well, yes… About four of them brought you in. You were in extremely bad shape - there was so much blood everywhere." Her words about blood made my head start spinning again.

"Did they not stay?"

"Well, honey, one of them did for the first night and the day after," she said. Wait.. The _first_ night? How long had I been there? She seemed to understand the question on my face, as she answered, "You've been here for about a week. Your cuts were so bad that you lost a lot of blood at first. That, and the fact that you have a concussion from the impact of hitting the ground so hard when you were attacked. We've just basically been keeping you asleep for as long as we can. I'm sure it must hurt a lot." She trailed off and looked suggestively at the pouch of emptying pain medicine.

"Wait, I only have a couple more questions. Where's my dad?" She told me he had been spending the nights here, but he was still working during the day. They hadn't expected me to wake up so soon. "How long am I going to be here?" She explained that now that they knew I was conscious, they would just be monitoring my status, and would let me know within two or three days when I could be discharged. With that, I let her re-administer the drugs.

* * *

I knew I was dreaming, and that the dream was slowly coming to an end. I was losing grasp of what was going on, but I knew that since _he _was there, it couldn't be reality. My ears were then flooded with the beeping sound of the machines, and a deep voice coming from somewhere to my left. The voice was talking to someone - explaining something.

It took me about half a minute to realize I knew this voice - this was the second voice that had left me behind. Jacob Black. I was angry with him, even though I knew he had saved my life. Even though he cared enough to save me, I couldn't stand to see him right then. So, in true Bella style, I just kept my eyes closed and feigned sleep. I began to listen to what he was saying, and the more I listened, the more I didn't understand.

"Oh, Bella. Why did you have to push me over the edge? Why'd you make me do it? You of all people…" He sounded like he was in pain. Well, good. I was too. "I won't ever forgive myself for doing this to you. Please forgive me. If you can hear me at all, please forgive me."

I knew myself, and I knew that if he was going to take me back, I would most likely forgive him at some point. Because I just needed someone to cling to. But not now. I couldn't handle the pain in my heart when I was facing all this pain on my skin.

He continued, "I didn't even realize it was you, when I hit you the first time. I didn't even know who _I _was. I had no sense of what was going on - but, of course, that's no excuse for the scars I've given you." Wait.. he hit me? I was starting to think that maybe he was actually talking about the physical scars I would have, rather than the emotional ones. But that was ridiculous. These were clearly marks of an animal attack. "When I finally found my humanity and my reason again, and I realized that it was _you_ - that _you_ were the one I was ripping to shreds - that I was killing my _Bella_ --" He stopped suddenly, as if he couldn't bear to continue. Ripping me to shreds… Again, I was more and more confused as to whether he was being literal or figurative. "Bella. Bella, I don't know if you can hear me, but, if you can, I'd like to explain."

Finally.

"When I stopped hanging out with you, it was the hardest thing I have ever done. But I was doing right by you. I was protecting you from what I am - from what we all are. Sam told me I couldn't tell you, and I can't just disobey him. I mean, I literally _cannot_ disobey. See, Bells, I'm a werewolf. Wow, that was easier to say than I thought it would be. I guess 'cause you're asleep…" He kept rambling on, but I tuned it out. A werewolf? That was new. But, above that, what worried me most was how easily I accepted this explanation. Mythical creatures weren't so mythical to me, after all. But, I definitely had some questions for him when I was done giving him the silent treatment. "You remember the time, on the beach, when I first told you about the treaty between my people and the Cullens?" Ouch. There was that pain in my chest. "Well, I told you that the Quileutes were descendants of wolves. Do you remember that? Turns out, that story was way more accurate than any of us knew. When our natural enemy is near, the Quileute youth go through a transformation that gives us the ability to turn into our ancestors. So.. there you go. Werewolves."

Maybe not as many questions as I had assumed. He was being pretty thorough. I only wondered if he would have given me these answers had he known I was awake and listening intently to his every word.

"When we change, especially the younger we are, it's usually in reaction to our anger. When you said those words to me, Bella, I couldn't help it. I lost myself. I thought I could keep it together for you. I never thought I would ever be able to hurt you; I thought that subconsciously I would know it was you. But I didn't. At the time, all I knew was my anger, and that you were an outlet for my expression. I am so sorry. I don't know the words to say to make it better."

I was almost to the point of telling Jacob I was listening. I could see that he was suffering from his guilt and that I wanted him to know I was okay, but I was a little preoccupied dealing with these new developments in the plot that was my life.

There was obviously something very wrong with me. The one true human friend I had wasn't even human. What did that say about me? So Jacob was a wolf. And he truly couldn't tell me because Sam had some sort of power over him. I stored that information away for further inspection. I also had to consider the fact that Jacob - _my_ Jacob - was the one who had ripped me apart. Literally. I didn't know how I felt about that. Should I be mad because he had done this? Should I pity him because he didn't have control over his life? Or, should I just be bitter because this was his mistake that I would have to live with forever?

First thing first.

"Jacob. Thank you for telling me the truth." I heard an intake of breath from my right side. A couple beats passed, and then, "You're welcome, Bella. Go back to sleep."


	2. After

**A/N: So, I decided to follow through with this story. Not many people reviewed it, but I keep getting new ideas for it in my head, so I figure, what the hell? **

**More importantly, I've changed my penname. This is still _lost-horizon_, but I just needed to change it for my sanity. I've had this account for 5 years, and 15-year-old me was weird. So, now I'm _texas-sky87_. **

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****Instability, chapter 2**

**"After"**

_"Jacob. Thank you for telling me the truth." I heard an intake of breath from my right side. A couple beats passed, and then, "You're welcome, Bella. Go back to sleep."_

Going back to school after staying in the hospital for a week and a half was altogether my least favorite experience. It had happened before, and each time was like my first day at Forks High all over again. People wanting to know what happened, wanting to know how badly I was going to scar, wanting to know everything. If any more people wanted to know something, I was going to let them get to know my fist. The only person I didn't feel like hitting all the time – no pun intended – was Jacob.

Once I had gotten out of the hospital and my scabs had turned to scar tissue, Jacob and I had found our way back to our old routine. He would work on his car in the garage, and I would sit by and watch him. We would make small talk, and he still managed to make me laugh, but it wasn't the same, and both of us knew it. Ironically, that was the one thing we avoided at all costs during our conversations.

Charlie had been really good about the whole situation, considering. When I first came home from the hospital he had gone out of his way to help me with little tasks. I briefly recalled that the last time I had been this injured, Alice had been there to help with my hygienic needs, but as soon as I thought it, I forced it to the back of my mind. Even though I had been discharged from the hospital, it was still important that I not move too much for fear of reopening the wounds and getting an infection. So, I had started teaching Charlie how to cook some of his favorite things. It became sort of an evening routine: I would sit at the kitchen table while he pulled out ingredients and listened to my instructions on what to do with them. I'll admit, he did burn a couple first tries, but every meal would eventually turn out right. If I had thought it was fun to watch him start trusting me in the kitchen when I first moved to Forks, it was infinitely more fun to watch him begin to trust himself.

One day I got home from school and he was already home prepping for dinner. He surprised me with a casserole that he'd found the recipe for in a cooking magazine. It was actually pretty good, and I realized then just how much my dad cared for me, even if he wasn't the most emotional talker in the world.

As we were eating the casserole, Charlie brought up Jacob. I tried my hardest not to flinch at this topic of conversation – it made me really uncomfortable whenever my dad brought up my social life.

"So, Bells, what's Jacob up to these days?"

"Not much. Just fixing his car, the usual." Maybe if I didn't elaborate, the conversation would flow towards something else. Something less emotionally draining.

"Huh. Did he tell you his sisters are coming into town this week?" This information was definitely news to me. Why wouldn't Jacob tell me that? Well, it was completely possible he had just forgotten to mention it.

"No, he must have forgotten to bring it up. Well, it'll be good to see those two again. They're the only ones I remember from way back in the day." I wondered if they would remember me – as it was, I only remembered the _idea_ of them, not actually hanging out with them.

"Well, they'll be here for a few days, so I thought we should invite the whole family to dinner. It'll be my cooking debut. Does that sound okay?"

"Sure, Dad, that'll be fun. I'll even let you try out the meal on me the night before, so you don't end up poisoning everyone," I said jokingly. He barked a laugh and nudged me with his elbow.

When we were done with dinner, I walked up the stairs to my room to get some homework done. I had been exempt from a good amount of class work that I had missed the past couple of weeks, but I still wanted to be able to pass my finals, so a good amount of my time was devoted to learning the things that I had missed. As I walked to my desk, I chanced a glance in the mirror and tried not to wince. I was already starting to see which cuts were going to scar the most. The unfortunate part was that nearly all of them were going to scar badly; the slashes had been pretty deep, a fact Jacob wasn't going to forget anytime soon.

Oh, Jacob.

It was still difficult to gauge my feelings toward him. I was still trying my hardest to forgive him, but it was human nature to be upset about things like that. I thought back to two days before, when I had last seen him. We had been hanging out in the garage, and I had just brought up the idea of riding our bikes again.

"Hey, Jake?"

"Yeah, Bella?"

"Do you think maybe tomorrow we could ride our bikes? I really miss it."

"No." I was surprised by the amount of decidedness in his voice.

"No?"

"I will _not_ be the reason you're hurt ever again, Bella. Whether I'm the cause or the catalyst, I won't be a part of it." I'd be lying if I said this response surprised me, but it still made me feel bad for holding an unintentional grudge against him. I knew he had to hate himself for what he had done way more than I could ever be angry with him.

"Jacob. I appreciate you trying to take care of me, really. But I just want things to go back to normal. I'm not anymore fragile than I was a month ago," I reasoned. To be fair, it probably wasn't the best argument, considering my history of extreme clumsiness. "And, don't forget, I was getting pretty good at riding before everything happened. I just want to have fun again like we used to."

He finally lifted his eyes from the bolt he had been wrenching into place and looked at me. "Bella, no offense, but I was hesitant to let you take risks even before…" he trailed off. It was still difficult to talk about. "It's just that, you've never been the best at keeping yourself safe. Before, I didn't worry about it _too_ much, because riding made you happy. But now that I've seen you all banged up and almost dead… I can't ever agree to putting you willingly in a situation where that could happen again. I'm really sorry," he said.

I grimaced at the truth in those words. And he didn't even know the real reason I had thought up the motorcycles in the first place. Maybe I did have an issue with self-preservation. Huh. I would be a psychiatrist's field day.

I didn't have it in me to argue with Jacob at that point, so I just let the conversation lull back into its comfortable place. We didn't talk about motorcycles, or getting hurt, or anything, really. I guess there's something to be said for that. But, very close to the surface, we both knew that if we couldn't close the gap forged by the accident very soon, things wouldn't stay this simple for long. One of us was bound to burst.

A couple times I caught him staring at the scars on my exposed arm flesh, and even once tracing the pink lines on my face with his eyes. I didn't let on that I knew what he was doing, because that would just bring up the issue unnecessarily. It didn't even really bother me that he was doing it. What worried me the most was the emotion burning behind his eyes as he stared – Jacob wasn't usually one to hide things from me. He quite often wore his heart on his sleeves, and it worked for him. The fact that he was trying to keep whatever he was feeling buried could only mean something bad.


	3. Riding

**A/N: So, thanks for everyone who's interested in this fic. I'm really excited about where this plot is going to take me. Also, to answer questions about whether this is ExB or JxB... I guess you'll just have to wait and see ;)**

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****Instability, chapter 3**

"**Riding"**

Sometimes it was hard to keep myself from looking in the mirror. I had never been one for vanity, but the lines weaving their way across my features made it difficult to resist.

I hadn't yet been able to place my feelings towards the scars. Sometimes, they just reminded me that my friend had left me, only to turn into a wolf and attack me. Other times, they reminded me that I had gotten that same friend back, if only a little piece of him. Every once in awhile, they made me feel ugly. But more often they made me feel distinguished. I had always been plain – plain brown hair, plain brown eyes, average height and weight. Now you would be hard-put to find someone who saw me as plain. Though the scars were coming to mean many different things to me, they were readily the most interesting thing about me. Coming from someone who had never once considered herself interesting before, that was saying something.

On my face there were four parallel lines, created by Jacob's claws, that went from the top left of my forehead, continued diagonally across my nose and eyelids, and finally ended at the bottom of my right cheek. The second claw mark from the bottom was by far the most prominent, and became sort of a favorite of mine. Twisted as it might be, I felt that maybe, just possibly, my outer appearance now somewhat resembled the way I felt on the inside. Internally, I had been broken for awhile, but my external self hadn't conveyed that. Now, I reasoned, people could tell simply by the skin on my face that I was defective.

Once, irrationally, I wondered what _he_ would think if he ever saw me again. I had always known that I wasn't enough for him – he had pretty much confirmed that sentiment when he left – but now I knew I could never even come close. Maybe it was good that he had left; if he had ever wanted me before, he certainly wouldn't anymore. But, almost as soon as that thought crossed my mind, I discarded it. I didn't have the energy to dwell on thoughts like those.

Occasionally I would catch myself absentmindedly tracing the pink lines on my cheeks and forearms. They were still raised above my skin, and I wondered if the swelling would ever fully disappear. In times like these, I would imagine what other people saw me as. What did the man who walked past me in the dairy aisle see in the small, damaged girl next to him? What about the gas station clerk, or the little girl visiting her grandmother down the street?

My friends at school were taking different routes to acknowledge my new appearance. Some of the kids, like Mike, tried to be polite by simply ignoring them altogether. I wasn't sure I liked this method, as I knew very well how pronounced the scars were, and there was no way to actually ignore them. Others, like Angela, accepted them, asked me if I was okay, offered a shoulder to cry on, and moved on. Then there were the kids like Tyler and Eric who thought they were the "coolest addition anyone had ever made to their body - ever." That's a direct quote.

Regardless of their meaning to myself and the people around me, the most difficult part was getting used to the staring. I had lived my life in an attempt to have people always looking the other way. I tried my hardest everyday not to stand out from the crowd, employing the use of nondescript clothing, and always choosing neutral colors for my personal belongings. It had worked for the most part – no passing stranger had ever really spared me any more than a glance. But now, understandably, I would catch people staring, no doubt trying to be as inconspicuous as they could. People walking past me in the grocery store would do double takes, taking in my marred features. It was something I was going to have to get used to pretty quickly, because I had a feeling this was how I was going to live the rest of my life. There could be no more hiding for me.

Things continued as usual in Jacob's garage for a time. We would talk about nothing consequential, and I would catch him staring at my scars. I decided to bring the motorcycles back up – I was tired of living this carefully constructed life, and having people around me treat me like I was a delicate child. I could handle myself, thank you very much.

"Jake. I want to ride again." I was trying my hardest not to whine.

He sighed. "Bella, I thought I told you how I feel about this?"

"Oh, you did. But I'm not going to take that crap from you anymore, Jacob Black. If you won't ride with me, I'll just ride by myself. I'm tired of being managed like a breakable china dish." His eyebrows were raised, as if he weren't expecting this little tirade. Which, he probably wasn't. I had been anything but animated with him ever since the accident.

"Bella, I don't think you have to act like a baby just because you aren't getting your way right now." Rude, much? "Nothing you say is going to make me change my mind." Oh, really?

"Fine. Then I guess I'll see you later." I stood up from my spot against the wall and walked over to our bikes. I pulled off the bed sheet that was covering them and dropped it at my feet. Grabbing my bike by the handlebars, I quickly maneuvered it to the entrance of the garage, fully ready to ride by myself. I was done playing by the rules again. The only thing that had brought me out of my stupor before the accident had been the thrill of taking a risk – I saw this situation as nothing different. I needed that part of my life back. And maybe, I hesitated to think it, fearing I might be pushing my luck, I would hear that beautiful voice again.

I heard Jake let out an aggravated sigh, followed by the sound of metal clanking against concrete. I turned around to see that he had put his wrench on the floor, and was walking toward his own bike. He was shaking his head back in forth as if he couldn't believe that he was acquiescing to the current situation.

I had stopped when I realized what he was doing, and he met me just outside the garage door. I grinned shamelessly up at him, reveling in the fact that I had won. He rolled his eyes as his expression turned from irritated to amused.

"All right, let's do this."

Bella: 1, Jacob: 0.

We rode around the reservation the rest of that day, laughing and making fun of each other. At one point I managed to unintentionally spray Jacob with mud, an occurrence that I found hilarious. He, on the other hand, found it as motivation for revenge. By the time the sun was setting, we were both caked in mud, and my hair resembled one big knot. When we pulled our bikes back into the garage, I looked up at Jacob and smiled, a real, actual smile, based in happiness, not spite.

"Jake, thanks for giving in. I know you had fun, so don't even try to deny it."

"You know I can never say no to you for long." He had a wistful look in his eyes, and I wasn't sure exactly how I felt about that. A smile played at his lips as we locked eyes for a moment.

But just as quickly as the mood had lifted, I saw Jake's eyes begin tracing the scars on my face. His smile faded into a small frown, and his brow furrowed the tiniest bit. A stranger might not have even seen the shift, but I knew Jacob Black like the back of my hand, and I definitely saw it.

"You can't even look at me, can you?" I don't know what made me say it, but there it was.

He froze.

"What?"

"I catch you looking at my scars. I never said anything, because I didn't know what to say. But I know it hurts to look at me. I know it makes you feel guilty." I guess I just really needed to get it off my chest.

He looked upward, as if looking for inspiration for his next words.

"Bella…" He sighed and covered his face with one of his giant hands. "Sometimes, when I look at you, I get so upset with myself that I use every bit of strength I have just to hold myself together. Sometimes it's all I can do not to break down in front of you. Sometimes when I stare at your scars I remember my exact movement as I scratched the hell out of your beautiful face. Sometimes – "

"Jacob," I cut in. I couldn't take anymore of it. "Jacob, if it hurts that bad, you don't have to look at me. I can't stand the pain in your eyes every time you see me."

"No, Bella, I still want to hang out with you. I still want to ride our bikes, and have fun. It's just taking me awhile to get over what I did," he said.

"But what if I can't stand it anymore?" I felt the truth coming out, truth that I hadn't even recognized until I said this. "Jake, you're my best friend. And nothing could ever change that. But ever since the accident, it kills me to be around you because you're in pain all the time. I can't do that to you. The best thing for me to do is to leave you alone for awhile."

His face held a mixture of horror and indecision. Like the one thing he _wanted _was for us to stay close, but the one thing he _needed_ was for me to be out of his life for a while.

He opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off.

"Jake, I'll always be your friend. Your _best_ friend. But right now, the only way I can fulfill that role is if I walk away." He didn't make any move to say anything, so I propped my bike up against the wall and turned to leave.

In a whisper so soft I wasn't sure I had really heard it, Jacob said, "Will we ever see each other again?"

I turned my head just enough that I could barely peek over my right shoulder.

"I hope so, Jacob. I really do."

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**A/N: I got over 300 hits on the last chapter... but only 4 reviews! Help me out here, people! =)**


	4. Almost

**A/N: Mmk, so here's chapter 4. I don't know how I feel about this one... Nothing too much happens, but I also felt like it wasn't right to put forth the next part of the story quite yet. Thanks to everyone who's reviewing! It's greatly appreciated.  
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**Instability, chapter 4**

**"Almost"**

To this day, I don't know where I found the strength to walk out of that garage.

I don't know how I was able to calmly walk down the hill towards my truck and slide into the driver's seat without looking back. Maybe it was the fear of seeing any kind of pain on Jacob's face. Maybe it was that I knew if I looked, I wouldn't be able to leave. Or maybe, just maybe, I did it because it was the right thing to do.

Once I was in the safety of my truck's cabin, I could feel the moisture beginning to build in my eyes. But I didn't want to start crying before I could get on the road. I knew I had to get home before it happened, or I'd never make it.

Somehow I was able to hold back the tears for a good two minutes before I just didn't have the energy to fight them any longer. I pulled to the side of the small dirt road I was on and folded my arms on top of the steering wheel, resting my face on my forearms. Heaving sobs racked through my body, causing my chest to lift violently up and down. Suddenly my truck's cabin felt less comforting and more claustrophobic.

I threw open the door and jumped out, sobbing just as hard as ever. I tried to take in a deep breath, but it turned out as more of a ragged wheeze. I bent over so that I could rest my hands on my knees for support while I took in my surroundings. As much as I didn't want to be in a confined space at that moment, I also didn't want to be lost.

I recognized my stopping point as being near the cliffs I had seen Sam and the others use for diving. Jacob had said they were crazy for jumping off the highest point. But standing there at that moment, I wondered if maybe there wasn't something peaceful in the height of the precipice. I carefully made my way over to the edge and sat cross-legged as near to the drop-off as was comfortable. I hadn't stopped crying yet, but the open air was making it easier to breathe.

I rested my elbows on my knees and cupped my face in my two hand, and stared off into the horizon. Since it was Washington, I couldn't see very far into the distance, thanks mostly to the overwhelming cloud cover. It had also started to rain, but that was something I rarely noticed anymore.

There really was something of solace in my surroundings. The ocean was beautiful, its unruly waves clapping up against the rocks many, many feet below me. The rush of the wind around my face calmed my nerves and I was able to begin to breathe normally again. My hair was being whipped around my face, but I didn't mind.

I was focusing on the scenery mainly to avoid focusing on what had just happened. I couldn't believe that I had been able to walk out on Jacob like that. It hurt just to think of it. But when I had done it, there was barely any struggle in me at all. I was dangerously close to comparing what I had just done to Jacob to what had happened to me, all those months ago, when I had been left alone… in the forest…

No. I couldn't let myself go there. And yet, the only thing in the world I wanted at that moment was to hear the voice. That beautiful, taunting, replica of a voice that had told me it loved me so many times. The voice that came out when I was doing something reckless. The voice that reminded me of the promise it had asked me to keep while it was off breaking one itself. The voice that wanted me to be safe, to not make rash decisions.

That's when I realized I was on the edge of a cliff. More importantly, a cliff that people regularly dived off of into the ocean below. It didn't look too difficult when the boys had been doing it; it was most likely just the same as a diving board, right? The image of the falling, spiraling figures was still vivid in my mind. I imagined the utter freedom of the fall… I imagined the way Edward's voice would have sounded in my head—furious, velvet, perfect… The burning in my chest flared agonizingly.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was using my palms to push myself into a standing position, and taking a couple small steps towards the brink. I imagined myself flying out into the open air and hearing that magnificent voice telling me to stop.

I raised my arms slowly out to the sides as if I was about to take off into a swan dive. I closed my eyes, lifted my chin, and prepared for the leap.

I rolled up onto the balls of my feet.

Just as I was about to bend my knees for leverage, a car drove past behind me, startling me out of my reverie.

It hit me then just how terrible of a decision I was about to make.

Nothing good could come from me pummeling a hundred feet down to the roaring ocean.

Once I looked down and saw just exactly what was waiting for me at the bottom, I instantly became nauseas and started scrambling backwards toward my car. I walked quickly, trying to escape the cliff as fast as possible. I mentally berated myself for being so dramatic.

_Seriously, Bella? Jumping off a cliff because of a boy?! _Literally _jumping off a cliff?! You MORON!_

I drove back to Forks feeling extremely embarrassed with myself. At least I had been the only one to witness my almost-stunt. I would have had a lot of explaining to do otherwise. I briefly wondered why the voice hadn't said anything while I had been standing there. It's plausible that I had known deep down that I would never jump, so the voice - which, to be fair, was all in my head - didn't see the need to intervene. Or maybe plain risk-taking wasn't enough these days? Maybe it had come to the point where I had to actually be putting myself in danger?

I needed to banish those thoughts before they got me into some serious trouble.

So, it was while I was trying to distract myself by people watching as I drove through town that I saw the car. It was parked in front of a gas pump at the small gas station on the corner of two main streets. I couldn't see inside it because of the rain and the tinting of its windows. But I knew that car. I had ridden in that car too many times to count. I knew that it was an S60R, and that yes, the "R" was extremely important, thank you very much. I knew the average amount of miles it got to the gallon. I knew what the silver paint looked like when it was foggy and it easily blended with the moisture in the air.

I knew that that car had left months ago along with its owner.

What was I thinking? Why was I letting my heart speed up in anticipation at seeing someone I knew I was never going to see again? He had made that part painfully clear.

But then, why was there a silver Volvo in Forks? It had always been nicer than any other car in the town, including the cars of adult citizens. Of course, it was also entirely possible that someone had just bought it, and it was a complete coincidence. That had to be it. It might have been the same model, but it was definitely a different car. Definitely.

And yet, as irrational as it was, I couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't a different car. I could picture the leather stretched across the seats. Was it possible that the car - I didn't dare to think of its owner - was back?

And then Mr. Yorkie, Eric's father, stepped out of the drivers seat to start filling the tank.

Man, I was really wound tight.

So, there was apparently a new silver Volvo in town. That was not going to help with the whole Bella-needs-to-move-on problem.

When I finally made it home, I pulled to a stop in the driveway, and turned off the car, leaving the keys in the ignition. I sat there in silence for a second before taking a deep breath and releasing it as a huge sigh. I pulled the keys quickly out of the starter and ran through the rain towards the porch.

Once inside the house I was able to get a better grip on myself. I walked straight up the stairs without bothering to grab anything from the kitchen for dinner.

I lay sprawled on my back on top of my comforter, still in my horribly dirty clothes, getting dry mud everywhere, staring at the ceiling. Well, I wasn't so much staring at the ceiling as I was just staring off into nothing. I was counting the popcorn dots created by the plaster to get my mind off of things. It worked for an hour or two, because I refused to give up. I was going to count all those damned dots before I thought about anything that had happened earlier that day, even if it killed me.

Unfortunately, being human, I simply couldn't count all the dots at sight. I let my mind finally wander down the road, across the dirt paths to the house where Jacob Black slept at night. I had to constantly remind myself that I was doing him a favor - I was leaving for his sake, to protect him from the guilt he felt whenever I was near. The more I thought about the devastatingly beautiful russet-colored boy, the more vigorously I traced the scars on my cheek. Back and forth, back and forth. For awhile I traced the one larger one over and over again, ignoring the others. Eventually, I employed one finger to each of the four marks, grazing the tips of my fingers over my face.

I had somewhat of an epiphany while I was tracing my scars: I had been damaged way more than any normal teenaged girl. I had been bruised and broken physically, emotionally, mentally - ad yet, I was still alive. For a long time, I saw that as merely a mistake; someone must have just forgotten to put me out of my misery a long time ago.

Now, however, I wondered if maybe it was some kind of challenge. Maybe life was throwing everything it had at me just to see if I would give up.

For a little bit, I had. Those four months that I had been breathing but not really alive, I had surrendered, only to find a remedy that slowly but surely put me back together again. And there I was, a couple months later, in a relatively similar situation.

I really only had two options: I could give up for good this time, or I could choose to go back to the living. I could begin repairing the few friendships I used to have. Sure, they would never be true friends like Jacob, but their intentions were kind enough. I resolved right then and there, in my filthy state, that I would forget about the things that had ruined me in my past. I could make it through this deal with Jacob with some help from other friends.

Most of all, though, I thought back to the promise I had been made on that unforgettable day in September. He had said it would be as if he had never existed.

Well, I could sure as hell pretend that he had never existed.

At least, that's what I told myself.

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**So, what do you think? Can she do it? Or, maybe something makes it really hard for her...? _hint hint _;)**

**Seriously, review! Let me know what I can work on -- especially this chapter, I feel like it is considerably the weakest one so far.  
**


	5. Pretending

**A/N: So... I literally don't do anything at work. Here's another chapter for you.**

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**Instability, chapter 5**

**"Pretending"**

It had been three weeks since I had let myself think about either of them.

I had been spending more and more time with the kids from school, and keeping up with their gossip was taking up a good chunk of my schedule. I never knew being a normal high school student could be so exhausting.

At first, most of them were skeptical. None of them had hung out with me, save for Mike and Jessica, at all that year. And when I had spent time with Mike and Jess, neither of those experiences were anything I'd like to count as good bonding time. So, needless to say, it was definitely awkward that Monday I showed up at the table eager to know what they were talking about. In the beginning, I didn't know a good majority of the people they were talking about – juniors, freshmen, and the likes had never really approached me before due to my previous relationship. But I soon learned, and even though I honestly couldn't have cared less about the scandals of Forks High, I threw myself into the circle with fervor. It was easy, when I was trying to remember who said what about whom, to not think of they-who-shall-not-be-named.

During those three weeks, I had also grown accustomed to seeing that damned silver Volvo out and about around town. I'll admit, the first few times it tugged at my heart a little, a couple of times made me hitch my breath. But even that was easy to get used to, since, after all, I had convinced myself that I was moving forward, away from that part of my life.

In all honesty, however, I did think about the past. It only happened once or twice within those three weeks, but I did happen, and I did learn things from it. For one, I realized how open I had been to letting myself get hurt. I had put it all out there, committed myself to only one person at a time, not letting anyone else in. It was a lesson that I had to learn the hard way: people are flawed, and if you give everything to someone else, they can - and will - let you down.

That isn't to say that I was growing cynical. (Okay, maybe a little.) It was more that I was growing from the small, hidden girl that I had once been into someone who deserved and demanded more from life. I wouldn't be "that girl" anymore, the one who had so little self-preservation that she would give all of herself to someone else to feel loved for a little while. I realized in my ponderings that no healthy relationship was built on two people who completely shut everything and everyone else out. A person had to have outlets, other distractions, and I had made that mistake both times.

All in all, I was doing pretty well.

Interestingly enough, I give most of the credit of my self-discovery to my scars. It was a constant battle, in the beginning, to not let them define who I was. People everywhere were starting to know me by the marks on my face and arms, and it was hard not to lump myself in with them. It took me awhile to get used to the fact that I now stood out – I couldn't lump myself in with the background like I used to. But hanging out with my group of friends made me finally realize that I was actually okay with this transformation. At first I had been reluctant to be noticed, but now I was beginning to feel that I was actually worthy of standing out in a crowd.

What's that saying? No one can love you if you don't first love yourself. It took me those three weeks of normal life to realize that I had never been okay with myself – which was probably why I had been so eager to define myself by attaching to another person.

To sum it all up, it basically took a horrible accident and severe scarring to make me realize that I was actually my own person, and that it was okay to be noticed sometimes.

It was also easier to believe that I had only put myself in those situations – well, really only the one situation – because I needed reassurance, and not because I had truly been in love. That made it _way_ easier to pretend he had never existed.

But deep down, I knew that was a straight up lie.

"Bellaaaa. Let's do something tonight," Jessica whined. We were eating lunch and feeling extremely bored.

"All right, what do you have in mind? I don't get my paycheck until Friday so it can't be something too expensive." I had picked up more shifts at Newton's recently, since I had been spending more money on going out with friends. There wasn't much to do in Forks, so we mainly spent a lot of time at restaurants.

"Let's go to Port Angeles. I need some new dining options for once." Yeah, I could get on board with that statement.

"That's fine. Let's leave right after school though, because Charlie will hunt me down if I'm out too late on a Wednesday," I said. Maybe he would or maybe he wouldn't, but I was kind of beat and wanted to get to bed early.

We left the school in Jessica's small car, with Angela and Eric in toe. Hilarity ensued on the drive out of Forks as Eric sang along in a weird voice to the top 40's songs on the radio. That kid was just flat out weird sometimes. Once we were within the city limits of Port Angeles, we started throwing out restaurant names.

None of us could agree on what we wanted, which is how we ended up driving around and stopping at the first place we saw. Ironically, it was an Italian restaurant that was all too familiar.

Damn. That was the first time in three weeks. Well, maybe this would have to be a ten-step program.

When we were seated at our table, I noticed the same waitress from nearly a year ago standing by the kitchen. I smirked to myself, remembering her blatant flirting.

"Dude, that girl is way too pretty. I've decided I hate all women who are prettier than I am – they're either bitches or… No, they're all bitches," Jessica rambled on. It took me a second to realize she was talking about the same waitress. I thought about telling her that she was looking at the waitress I had used to avoid her questions a long time ago, but I wasn't sure my new ten-step program allowed talking about him out loud yet.

To my discomfort, we had been sat in pretty-flirty-waitress's section. When she made her way over to our table, she stared at my face for longer than was socially acceptable. Well, it would have been if I hadn't had the huge claw marks across my face – for me, the amount of time she spent studying my face with her eyes was just about average. She turned out to be nice enough; apparently when there wasn't a Greek god sitting in her section it was easier to do her job.

Dinner was full of fun conversation, light joking, and excitement about graduation in the coming months. It was something I had been thinking about a lot – I had used some rolling deadlines to my advantage in the past couple weeks, and I had applied to schools both in Washington and on the other side of the country. I had missed the application dates for most of the good, big schools, but I figured I could at least get one year out of the way and then transfer if I felt the need for a more challenging atmosphere. Everyone else pretty much knew where they were going to school: Jessica and Angela would attend Washington U, while Eric would be in the North East at Yale – he had been early accepted months ago. I was really starting to want a change of scenery, so I had been especially leaning toward something in Texas or Arizona. I had also applied to a small school in California, but I wasn't sure if I'd be able to afford that one.

As much as I was enjoying this dinner, I had a strange pull to get home. I brushed it off as just plain old need for sleep, but if I had been paying more attention, I would have noticed that it was more like a pang in my heart.

We made it back to the school parking lot right around nightfall. Jessica dropped us off at our respective cars, and we all said our goodbyes for the evening. I was the last one to get dropped off at my truck, and I was getting antsy to get home. I had unlocked the doors, pulled myself into the cab and was about to fire up the engine when I got the strange feeling that I wasn't alone in the parking lot anymore. It was that feeling that you try to brush off as paranoia, but for some reason you just can't shake the idea that it might be a real warning.

I glanced around nervously, and when I didn't see any other cars in the parking lot, I decided I was just being panicky. I had thought about him for today for the first time in a while, and it had made my brain act all weird. My truck's engine roared to life, and I started to make my way home.

As I was driving through town, I noticed Mr. Yorkie's silver Volvo parked outside the hospital. That was odd, I thought. I made a mental note to ask Eric if everything was okay with his dad.

But the thing was, the closer I looked, the more I started to question if it was really Mr. Yorkie's car. Sure, it was getting pretty dark outside, but the Volvo was sitting under a lamp post, and it seemed to me that this particular car was lighter silver than Mr. Yorkie's. Come to think of it, Mr. Yorkie's was more of a shiny charcoal than silver…

_No. Stop it, Bella. He isn't coming back. Not for you._

I tried really hard to remind myself that I was doing so well pretending he never existed. I really did. But the color of that car… it was just hit way too close to home. For all I knew, that was just the color Mr. Yorkie's car _was_ under hospital parking lot lights. But I couldn't fight the feeling that it belonged to someone else.

I almost pulled a U-turn to go back and take a closer look.

Almost.

I decided to continue on home. I really just wanted to curl up into a ball under my covers and sleep. As much as I tried denying it, thinking about him still hurt, even though I was trying my hardest to forget him. Even worse, whenever I thought about him possibly coming back, I couldn't fight my traitor heart from beating a hundred miles a minute.

I finally made it to my room after explaining to Charlie where I had been, and exchanging work and school day stories. I had to admit, it was much nicer to be around my dad when he wasn't constantly checking me for signs of relapse.

I was walking towards my bed when the toe of my shoe caught on something on the floor. I tumbled to the floor, landing on my knees. I'm pretty sure they were just permanently bruised.

I turned to find what had tripped me, and I noticed one of the floorboards was slightly raised. That was definitely new – I would have fallen over that a long time ago if it had always been that way.

I was in the process of forcing the board back into place when I noticed a tiny sliver of white that was illuminated by the overhead light in my room. When I looked closer, I realized it was a paper of some kind. I tried to use my fingernails to grasp it, but it was wedged in too far.

So, I tried pulling the floorboard up. I was expecting it to be a difficult task, so I used all my strength. Unfortunately for me, it wasn't difficult at all, and I went flying backwards against the side of my bed.

I crawled back over to the open floorboard to peer inside.

And then I stopped breathing.


	6. Reminders

**A/N: Mmk... Sorry about the cliffhanger from the last chapter. My b. If you're a real Twilighter, you already know what's under the floorboard. **

**

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****Instability, Chapter 6  
"Reminders"**

_And then I stopped breathing._

My mind went blank. I literally stopped functioning for a few seconds. My heart didn't pump and my eyes didn't blink.

All I saw before me was Edward.

Everywhere.

Dozens of photographs of Edward Cullen.

Kneeling carefully, I gently reached out with one hand to brush my fingertips across one of the photos. It was the last one I had taken of him on – wow. On my birthday.

I still hadn't regained coherent thought. All I could see in my mind was his face. His glorious, painfully beautiful face. And his eyes. It was as if, even through the lens of a camera, he was staring straight at me, and I couldn't break away from his gaze.

Then it hit me.

This was all my stuff that I thought he had destroyed. This was part of the whole "I never existed" promise.

But he hadn't destroyed it. He had left it right underneath my very feet.

I greedily started grabbing at everything in the pile and hugged it to my chest.

Screw the ten-step program.

I was still in love with Edward.

Damn him.

Everything was there. The photos from the previous summer, photos from my birthday party, the plane tickets Esme and Carlisle had given me, even the CD of Edward's piano pieces.

I stood up quickly and ran to my closet to dig out my CD player. I hadn't wanted to listen to music for so long. But now… Now I had something worth listening to.

I realized then that I was never going to be able to pretend he hadn't existed. I was in too deep to start with. All I could control now was whether or not my world revolved around him.

And right at that moment, he was the only thing I knew.

I popped the CD into place in the reader and hit the small triangular button. My lullaby filled my ears and I felt the tears start to slip quietly down my cheeks.

At some point in all this mess I should have stopped to wonder why the floorboard had been loosened all of a sudden. I should have thought about why Edward had left these things in my room when he didn't want me to remember him. I should have questioned a lot of things in that moment.

But all I did was pick up the pile of mementos, set the plane tickets on my computer desk, and sit down on my bed with all the pictures in my hands.

I fell asleep to Edward's playing as I stared into his photographed eyes.

When I woke up the next morning, I was sure the whole thing had been a dream. I was sure that I had barely made it to my bed, passed out, and started dreaming right away. That's why it had seemed so real.

Then I noticed the CD player sitting on my nightstand and the photos strewn about the floor, and I realized that it had actually happened. And that I had no idea how to feel about it.

In the moment I had been so overwhelmed by the items that I reacted on pure emotion. No rational thinking had been involved. None at all. But now, as I started to think through the whole thing from a more reasonable perspective, I began to ask myself all the questions I should have asked last night.

Why did Edward leave this stuff here? Why was the floorboard _all of a sudden_ loose? Why could I think his name without flinching?

What the _hell_ was going on?

The whole time I was getting ready for school, I honestly tried to think of the answers. Maybe he was in a hurry when he left and decided to just stash the stuff here.

Maybe he thought of it as some cruel kind of joke.

Maybe it was a test of some kind.

Maybe he didn't even want to take the stuff with him because he was _that_ over me.

Maybe he thought that if I ever found it, I would thank him for leaving a nice reminder for me.

_Maybe… _

There was one possibility that I was desperately trying to keep myself from thinking.

_Maybe he wanted…_

No, I would not let myself hope. I had come too far to fall back into that mindset.

_Maybe he wanted to leave a part of himself with me. _

I knew that wasn't the answer to this conundrum. I knew he didn't want me anymore. There was no way he was being kind to both of us when he left the stuff here.

_Maybe he still loves me._

I spit mouthwash into the sink and turned off the faucet. I couldn't bear to think of anymore "maybes."

Besides, I was only drawing incorrect conclusions.

The whole day I was mentally checked out from school. Thankfully, my teachers wrote it off as senioritis. My friends wondered if I were getting sick. I knew Angela, at least, was worried that I was slipping back to my former self. I tried to give her small smiles whenever I would see her observing my behavior, but I'm not sure they fooled her.

After school, I saw her out of the corner of my eye running to catch up to me.

"Bella, are you okay? Did something happen?" I knew she was concerned, but I really didn't know how to talk about it.

To be quite honest, I didn't _want_ to talk about it. But the new and improved Bella scolded me and reminded me that I couldn't block people out anymore. It helped to have an outlet.

"Actually, something did happen. Can you come over for a little bit? I need to show you something," I said. To that day, no one had actually known what happened between me and Edward.

Angela was about to find out.

She agreed, and followed me in her own car to my house. I offered to cook her dinner, but she had to be home by seven, so it made more sense to drive separately. Once we reached my home, I pulled into the driveway and she parked on the side of the road.

***

"So, he just left? With no warning? He didn't tell you they were leaving town, or show any sign that he didn't love you?" I had asked myself these very questions so many times it didn't even faze me.

"Nope," I said, popping the "p."

I had told Angela a mixture of what had really happened and what the town had heard. I kept to the story that they had gone to L.A. for Carlisle's job, but I ad-libbed that Edward had the choice to stay, and that he told me he didn't love me anymore so there was no point.

Angela looked like she was trying to tread very carefully with her questions.

"Wow. Okay, but this all happened in September. What happened last night? Or today? Or whichever," she asked. I hadn't gotten to the new development yet.

"Well, when he left he made me promise to be careful. He, in turn, promised me that it would be as if he never existed. So, he took all my pictures of him, the presents he gave me, and everything that reminded me of him from my room," I explained.

She interjected, "Wait, how did he get in your room after he left?"

"Oh, uh, I guess he did it the last time he was in my room, I just didn't notice," I made up. What would she have said if I told her he had likely climbed the side of my house into my bedroom window? If only I weren't attracted to mythological creatures, I wouldn't have to lie to my best girl friend. "Anyway, I assumed he had taken them with him. Or destroyed them. Or both. But…" I trailed off.

She raised her eyebrows in anticipation, "But…?"

I sighed, and opened the shoe box in which I had stuffed all the photos and the CD. The tickets were still on my desk, mocking me. I saw Angela's eyes widen and she clasped her hand over her mouth. She used her other hand to shuffle through the photos, and pick up the CD.

"What's this?"

"Recordings of Edward playing the piano. It was his birthday gift to me," I said quietly. Although I had decided to show her this stuff, this alone seemed private.

"Oh my God," she whispered. "So wait – where did you find all of this? And why just now?"

Instead of answering her question, I simply walked over to the loosened floorboard and kicked it out of place.

"I nearly died when I tripped over it last night. But that's the thing – if it had always been sticking up, my clumsy feet would have found it a long time ago. I don't know how it was all of a sudden raised," I answered.

She pondered over that for a minute or two. "Hmm… Bella? I know this is going to sound super cheesy, but… maybe it was fate, you know? Like, maybe you weren't supposed to find it until now?" Oh, Angela, ever the optimist.

"Okay, say I went along with that theory," I said, "Why now? That's the whole question. That board must have been loose for at least seven months. Why did it just decide to pop up and threaten my life and sanity _now_?" It was a really good question, I thought.

"Maybe," she began. "Maybe you're just now supposed to get some answers. Maybe that's what it means."

Apparently I wasn't the only one assaulted with a case of the maybes.

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**When was the last time you used too many "maybes?" **

**Reviews are better than finding a bunch of pictures of Edward under your floor... Actually, not at all. **

**But they're nice. =)**


	7. Author's Note

**Author's Note -- sorry for the fake out.**

**So, I'm at a standstill with this story. I have a couple chapters laid out, but I'm not sure I like where I've gone with the story. However, I WILL continue, it's just taking me awhile to figure out what's going on.**

**That being said, I have a new story that I'm working on to get my brain juices flowing.**

**It's called "Of Dignity and Circumstance" -- you can find it on my profile page. Here's the official summary:  
**

The children of high society learn early on that they shouldn't bother with love, as it complicates things, and that people ultimately let you down. Emotions should never run high. Everything is for appearances, nothing more. AH, kinda OOC, BxE.

**Basically, Bella and Edward grew up as members of high society in Phoenix. They attended elite private schools, and ran in the same circle. They were always the two closest friends of the circle they ran with, and therefore didn't test the waters when high school turned everyone into hormonal, sex driven assholes. Halfway through high school, however, Bella is forced to move to Forks where they don't offer a single AP class. Mortified, she tells her "friends" she's leaving at the last second, so they don't even have time to feel bad for her. Unfortunately, Edward was in Europe at the time studying music - and she never did tell him goodbye.**

**The rest is for you to find out yourself. =)**

**Also, go check out husmcn's "Compromises and Promises." I'll be beta'ing her next story, and she's also just my fav.  
**


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